A Book About Ghost
by SailorToni
Summary: Jack Fenton wanted a Pony for Christmas, but instead he got something else. For Browa123.


**December 25****th**** 1982 – Fenton Family Apartment**

Jack, a pudgy, fat boy sits at the base of the tree, bouncing up and down, the lights mush into streams of color that follow him. Up and down, from the short stack of newspaper wrapped presents, to the dollar store star on top. His brothers wait with him, but do not join their brother in any sort of excitement. John lays on the futon reading a fashion magazine, while Danny sat next to his brother, eyes glazed over, mouth open, watching the rain drops trail down the window.

"Hey, Hey Danny?"

"Yes Jack."

"Do you think Dad is gonna come in with my Pony?"

"Hmm… I wouldn't get your hopes up little bro."

"But I asked Santa in all my letters and I've been a good kid."

"Oh?" John said, "Are you sure you've been good? I remember Mrs. Clayton tried to call the cops on ya."

"That wasn't my fault! I was looking for big foot!"

"Big foot isn't real werid"

"Yes, he is! I saw pictures in the newspaper," Jack jumped up, his voice raisin in pitch.

"Do you believe everything you see? What a moron"

"John," Danny warned, "Its Christmas, be nice"

"Whatever."

"He is real! Right Danny!"

"Uh yeah Jack."

"See! I'm not a moron you are!" Jack made a face at John, sticking his tongue out.

"Hey, that's not nice! Santa won't be bringing you a Pony if you keep that up," Danny said.

"But it's already Christmas!"

"And do you see a horse moron?" John snapped.

"Not a horse! A Pony! And no…" Jack's voice was no longer at an ear-piercing volume.

"Santa still has time to send it back and drop ya' some coal," Said John.

Jack sulk to the tree plopping himself next to the eldest brother. Spreading his arms flat against the floor, rolling around in his He-Man pajamas, Jack tried counting each bump on the popcorn ceiling, his eyes moving around the large brown stains that scatter among it. One big stain, was stuck in the corner slowly growing as the weeks past. Every time Jack mentioned it, his father brushed him off, telling him someone would have to come and fix it eventually. Just like the mangled blinds, tacked to the wall above with Christmas lights and dick tape, or the strange smell from their shower drain. Someone would fix it, so Jack shouldn't touch it. Jack shouldn't touch a lot of things. The microwave still couldn't cook for more than four minutes because of him. But it wasn't his fault. It wasn't working and now it was. Just a little buggy. Just like the Tv, and the light in his room. He fixed it.

The front door swung open and a tall, stocky man came in, his clothes plastered to him like a second skin. Three more presents, in a similar worrisome state, were tucked under his arm, one bent, one ripped, and one tapped together. Setting them down on the end table, he cast off his ripped, wrinkled, dripping mess of a jacket. The end of his sleeves unraveling into grey strands, sticking to his palms. A chorus of _Dad_ came from the three boys, each taking a part in helping him un dress, hanging up the clothes over the kitchen sink to dry. The long grey Jacket was dragged along the flooring, the strings dripping along its path, till Jack threw it over the shower curtain.

"How was work?" said Danny.

"Horrible. Making a poor man work all through Christmas eve and morning?" The Father replied, "But it's Christmas. No negative thoughts! Everyone around the tree."

Each boy got two presents from the tree and one soggy present. Danny the eldest got new clothes, new shoes, and money for his savings. John got new clothes, new shoes, and a large sketch pad with new pencils. Jack, got new clothes, new shoes, and a book. _Nightingale's Guide to Ghost and Hunting them_.

"Where is the pony?" asked Jack.

"We don't have room for a pony Jack, but Santa knows how much you like those strange creatures so he got you a book about them," replied his Father.

"But Ghost are boring, I like Big foot and aliens and-"

"Come on Jack, give it a chance. I think you'll like it."

Jack did as his father said. He spent Christmas in complete silence. The right side of pjs wet from the window he pressed himself against. The rest of the world seem dead to him. Even as Danny and his Father yelled about the military.

Four years later, Jack, now twelve years old with a body that always put him a head above the rest of his classmates. Pressed himself against the church pew, the world refused to die around him. A casket stood at the front of the room; an American flag draped over it.

"Daddy?"

"Yes Jack."

"Do you think Ghost are real?"

"Yeah, yeah, I like to believe that Jack."

"Do you think Danny is a ghost?"

"Jack. Please not n


End file.
